Quantum Synchron & The Observer vs. The Decoherence

The dust settled around them. Synchron stood over The Observer, his breath steady but labored. The battle had been more than physical—it was a war of realities, of infinite possibilities reduced to a single, inevitable conclusion.

The Observer groaned, rubbing his jaw where the punch had landed. He blinked, golden eyes dimmed, no longer glowing with absolute certainty. And for the first time in his existence, he felt something new.

Doubt.

"You did it," he muttered. "You made me uncertain."

Synchron offered a hand. The Observer hesitated—then took it. The tension between them melted, replaced by something else. Not friendship. Not yet. But an understanding.

Synchron smirked. "Not knowing everything isn't so bad, is it?"

Before The Observer could answer, the world cracked.

A sound—deep, resonant, like the very fabric of reality was tearing—rippled through the air. The city itself seemed to shudder. The streetlights flickered, not from electricity, but from existence itself struggling to stay intact.

A voice, cold and absolute, cut through the distortion.

"Both of you are mistakes."

They turned.

A figure stepped onto the battlefield. His form was shifting—flickering—not because he was uncertain, but because he was erasing everything around him.

The Decoherence.

He walked slowly, each step unraveling the world beneath his feet. Buildings behind him lost their structure, dissolving into undefined chaos before reforming into something simpler, something more… certain.

No quantum fluctuations. No probabilities. No unknowns.

Pure, defined reality.

Collapse incarnate.

Synchron felt it instantly—the disconnect. The entanglement he had built, the threads of connection he wove into the battlefield, vanished as soon as The Decoherence arrived. His power, his greatest weapon, was unraveling before he could even use it.

The Observer stiffened. His golden eyes flickered wildly. "No…" His voice was sharp, almost fearful. "He's collapsing everything into a single, absolute state."

Synchron clenched his fists. "That means—"

"—There are no probabilities left," The Observer finished grimly. "No possibilities. No escape."

The Decoherence stopped a few feet away, tilting his head slightly, as if disappointed. His voice was void of emotion, an unshakable monotone.

"Entanglement. Uncertainty. Probability. Weaknesses." He raised a hand, and reality shook.

Synchron felt it first—his body stiffening, locking into one state, one position. His ability to exist in multiple states at once was gone.

The Observer gasped. "He's… measuring everything at once."

The Decoherence continued. "I am the final truth. The end of paradox. The collapse of all things into what they were always meant to be."

He raised his hand higher. The sky darkened. The city itself—everything uncertain, everything undefined—began to crystallize into a fixed, inescapable reality.

No alternate futures. No rewrites. No second chances.

For the first time, both Synchron and The Observer felt truly trapped.

The fight wasn't about possibility anymore.

This was the end of all possibilities.

And The Decoherence had already decided how it would collapse.